Fading Away
by Chary Moota
Summary: Michael and George Michael return home, much to Michael's chagrin. As George Michael and Maeby get closer, he and his father move farther apart. GMxMaeby. Rated T for mild language. 6.16.08! UPDATED! Chapter 7 is finally up!
1. The Hourglass

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrested Development, although it would be pretty cool if I did. The only thing that I own in this story is the plot and, well, this story. Also, any original characters (if any) are solely my property.

**Author's Note:** Please R&R with any and all criticisms, things you liked, etc.:D

**Chapter One**

George-Michael Bluth tapped the car window rhythmically. It was pouring outside, which he found odd. It was summer, after all, and in California no less.

_Maybe the sky's crying for me. Or maybe it's just global warming. Probably the latter._

"Hey, George-Michael?" his father, Michael, asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

"Oh, yeah Dad?" George-Michael asked, pretending to seem awake.

"You mind stopping that?" Michael gestured towards the window that his son was still tapping.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry, Dad." He stopped, placing his hands neatly in his lap.

"It's okay." Michael looked over at his son with a smile. He placed his hand on George-Michael's shoulder, shaking him a bit. George-Michael smiled back slightly, his eyes half-closed from boredom.

"I'm not so sure about you, though, son." Michael still had his hand on his teenager's shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

"Uh-huh, yeah! I'm glad that we're going to be with the family again." _Especially Maeby._

"Good, good. Hopefully we can -"

"Dad! The light's red!" Michael stomped on the brake pedal. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to try and have a conversation with his son about his welfare at the intersection.

"George-Michael, wake up. We're here."

George-Michael's eyes flashed open. He looked out the window that he had been resting his head on to see his uncle GOB standing outside the familiar Bluth model home. He dashed out of the car without getting his stuff from the trunk first and embraced GOB. Never had be been so happy to see the failed magician/con-artist in his life, and he himself did not understand why he was so happy, especially since GOB had stolen his ex-girlfriend.

"Um…hi, George-Michael." GOB patted his nephew on the head, and then walked over to his brother. "Michael! You're back! Thank GOD!" George-Michael watched as the two brothers hugged, and felt kind of jealous. He was young, polite, bookish George-Michael; Uncle GOB would never care about him as much as he cared for Michael.

However, there _was_ someone inside who cared about him.

Or, at least, had cared about him before.

George-Michael opened the door and walked inside. "Hello? Anyone home? It's George-Michael! We're back!" he called throughout the house. Upon entering the kitchen, he found his "Uncle" Tobias Funke in his bath-robe, sipping coffee and reading a body-builder magazine. Tobias turned, putting down his magazine. "Why _hello _there, George-Michael! It's good to see you again; how are you?" He looked over the boy's shoulder. "Where's your father? I'd like to talk to him about my Lindsay."

_Of course. Always about Dad._ "He's probably still outside talking to Uncle GOB," he replied, sighing. "Um, is Maeby around?"

"You know, she hardly ever is home these days…"

"Well I guess that's Maeby for you. But is she here today?" George-Michael was itching to see her.

"Oh, oh, yes. She's in her room, which I would assume to be both your and her room now that you're back." Tobias chuckled to himself awkwardly as he went to see what GOB and Michael were up to.

George-Michael's pulse was racing; his palms were sweaty, and he was incredibly nervous. He, Michael, and his grandfather George Sr. had lived in Cabo for a month; while Michael and George-Michael easily tired of this living situation, George Sr. chose to stay behind. When George-Michael found out that he and his father were moving back home, all he could think about was reconciling with Maeby.

He trudged upstairs and headed to his old room. Knocking as he always did, he heard Maeby's voice: "What the hell do you want, Dad?"

Oh, it was so good to hear her voice again. "M-Maeby? It's…it's George-Michael."

"George-Michael?" Maeby opened the door. "Oh my god! You're back!" The pair hugged each other for a good five minutes, and afterwards George-Michael looked at his beloved cousin's face.

_This has to be one of the best moments of my life._


	2. Exchanging Body Heat

**Author's Note: Hello again - thanks to everyone who read this and thank you very much to my reviewer (sorry I didn't put your name in ;;) Anyway, sorry that it took forever to update.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arrested Development. No duh.**

**Chapter Two**

"GOB, what the hell is wrong with you?" Michael, GOB, and Tobias were outside in front of Michael's car. GOB had just confessed that he was trying to… "win over" their adopted sister, Lindsay, otherwise known as the wife of Tobias and mother of Maeby, and had a date with her planned for that night. Michael wasn't exactly surprised that GOB would try something like this; it was in his nature. He'd just been living with George-Michael's ex-girlfriend, after all. Anything was possible now.

"Michael, Michael, Michael…maybe one day you'll be able to score hot women like your big brother, eh?" GOB punched his younger brother in the shoulder, laughing.

"GOB, that woman is your _sister_. I'm not exactly envious over here."

"Plus, fair Lindsay just declared her love for me last night," Tobias added in from where he was standing behind GOB. The brothers looked over at their brother-in-law, blinked, and continued arguing. "Fine, maybe she didn't. But I could see the burning love for me in her eyes yesterday as she was looking at your picture, Michael." Once again, the brothers ceased arguing and snickered whilst mumbling to each other.

"It doesn't matter, anyway, little bro. I'm taking Lindsay out to one of those fancy French restaurants tonight, and you're not gonna do anything to stop me."

"Uh-huh. Whatever, GOB. Maybe one day you'll look back on this and realize how messed up it was." Michael handed an aggravated Tobias some of the luggage George-Michael had neglected, picked up his own bags, and walked toward the house that had previously been his. Now it was just a house for fools.

"Hey," Michael said to Tobias as they were putting the stuff down in the living room (the house gave off some kind of lazy aura), "where is Lindsay, anyway?"

"Maeby…I really missed you," George-Michael said, making room for her on his old bed that he had missed almost as much as his cousin.

"I missed you too. Although with you gone, I _was_ gonna ask Steve Holt out…" When she saw the face George-Michael was making, Maeby laughed and slapped him across the back. "Hey, hey, I was just kidding. Loosen up."

George-Michael laughed nervously. "Ha ha, yeah, I need to get that old stick outta my butt." Maeby cocked her eyebrow, confused and somewhat scared by her cousin's bad attempt at a joke. "…Yeah. So, heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Your uncle's going out with my mom."

"What?!" George-Michael wanted to be as biologically separated from Maeby as possible, and now one of his stupid uncles was screwing it up…as usual. "Who? Please don't say it's Uncle GOB!" _I don't want to have to punch anyone ever again._

"Um…it's not GOB?"

"It's Buster?!" He didn't even want to picture that.

"No, it's GOB, idiot." Maeby got up and started playing with her cell phone.

"Are you kidding me? That's so…wrong!" Maeby looked up from her game of Tetris with hurt in her eyes.

"Are you serious, George-Michael?! You did NOT just say that." She threw the cell phone at him. "They're doing the same freaking thing we were doing! Did you think that was wrong? Cuz you were the one who - "

"No, no, you're right! I'm sorry, I just didn't think about it like that…I mean, we're not even related anymore."

"I know that." Maeby turned around, hiding her face with her hair. _When you're not allowed to do something_, she thought, _you wanna do it. But if we're not related, and there was nothing wrong with us dating in the first place…what's the fun in that?_

"Maeby?" She faced him again. "Who told you?"

"My mom, of course. Well, not, like, directly. She kept talking about how she wanted to marry your dad to Gangy, so I kind of realized that you were right in the first place. About us not being related, I mean."

"…I'm sorry. But hey, now we can, y'know, keep that marriage certificate, or…" She glared at him. "Umm, I was joking! Of course we're not, um, going to stay married…it's all a joke!" George-Michael stood up and hugged Maeby. "But we _can_ do this." He leaned in and kissed her, and Maeby couldn't think about anything but George-Michael for those ten seconds.

Unfortunately for them, the allegedly missing Lindsay re-appeared at this moment, barging in the room. "Maeby, where's my – oh my _god_…" Before the pair could notice she was there, she shut the door, breathing heavily. "That means Michael's back! Yay, yay, yay!" Since she was no longer related to George-Michael, she no longer cared that he had just been kissing her daughter. Wow, no wonder Maeby was so messed up.

"So, Lindsay…how's that bust?" GOB asked, giving Lindsay what he considered seductive eyes as he put his fork down.

"Excuse me, GOB?" Lindsay thought she gagged a little in her mouth when she heard that.

"Crust! I mean crust! How's that bread crust?" GOB twitched, cursing under his breath. _Keep it together, GOB._

"Um…it's horrible. And this is actually a burnt noodle."

"Oh, noodle. Ha ha." Lindsay stared blankly at GOB. _Why'd I agree to this again?_ _Oh right, to make Michael jealous. _She licked her lips as she thought of whom she used to call her twin brother. "Get it? Noodle?"

"No, I don't."

GOB sighed as Lindsay continued to eat her burnt noodle. "You're in love with Michael, aren't you?"

"Yes." She narrowed her eyes and smiled. "God, I love him. We're going to get married and I'll actually have a _hot_, _straight_ husband with money."

"…Yeah." The waiter conveniently appeared in front of their table. "Check, please?" GOB stood up, grabbed the check, handed it to Lindsay, and left the restaurant.

"GOB? GOB?! First rule of dating – the woman doesn't pay for dinner!" Lindsay exhaled deeply and opened her purse. "Dammit, GOB, _especially_ when they don't have any money on them!"


	3. Out of Breath

**Author's Note: **Hey, people! Thanks so much to my two most recent reviewers, Travis'PunkRockPrincess and loathed wolf spirit, for reviewing! Just a little note, in this story, Lucille doesn't get arrested like she did in episode 53. Um, yeah. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Gratzi!. :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Arrested Development. I own this story, however, so no stealing! xP

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**Chapter Three**

The following day, to celebrate the return of her son and grandson, Lucille Bluth threw a party for her family. She loved parties, and this one was mainly just an excuse to show off her new fur to every rich person in town.

The party was incredibly last minute, since Michael hadn't told anyone he was coming back until he was an hour away from the house. It was also low-key for a Bluth family party, considering that they had lost a considerable amount of money during the whole Michael-Becoming-CEO fiasco. However, as George Sr. had often said, there's always money in the banana stand…in this case, it was the model home in Iraq that had money in it. With Sadaam Hussein dead, the impersonators were out of jobs, and Lucille forced them to turn over the house. Afterwards, she began renting it out for outrageously high prices. Yep, life was good for the manipulative Lucille.

The doorbell rang, and the youngest Bluth brother, Buster, scurried over to it. "I'll get it, Mother!" He thrusted the door open and screamed when he saw that it was his older brothers. "Michael! Brother!" He hugged him awkwardly, and an exasperated Michael pushed through the hugging chain that was about to commence. GOB was the next to be hugged, but George-Michael and Maeby got through (hand-in-hand, much to Michael's annoyance) before they could get caught behind a crowd of people.

"Hey, Mom; was this party really necessary? You've got to be more careful with your money, now, after -"

"Oh, Michael, shut up and give your mother a hug!" Lucille cut her son off and squeezed him tightly.

"Mom…are you drunk?"

"No, of course not, Michael!" Michael gave her the "Totally-not-believing-you-over-here" look, trying not to laugh. Sometimes he wondered what he would do without his mother. Only sometimes, though. "Okay, so I had some vodka, so what? Now where's your sister?" She spotted Lindsay eyeing Michael's butt happily and walked over to her.

Michael, who had seen past the façade of the party the minute he got invited, decided to be relatively invisible and hang out with his son. "Hey, George-Michael!" he called when he found him at the appetizer table. "How's it going? I haven't talked to you much since we came back here."

"Oh, sorry, Dad. I was just, you know, hanging out with Maeby." He gestured over to where she was sitting, talking to her Dad (actually, he was doing all the talking – she was rolling her eyes and pretending to listen).

Michael sighed. "George-Michael, you need to listen to me. Just because Aunt Lindsay isn't our blood relative doesn't mean Maeby's not family, okay? I don't want you two making out anymore, or dating, or whatever."

George-Michael practiced some breathing exercises he learned at that boarding school he went to for all of two weeks. He was sick of hearing this speech over and over. "Dad, I don't think you…I need you to listen to _me_ for once."

"…Go ahead." Michael was a bit taken aback from the sudden different opinion. Was what everyone told him would happen coming true? Was George-Michael breaking apart from their close father-son relationship…all over a girl? The horror!

"I…I really, really like Maeby, Dad. And I have since we all first started living together. And, I mean, I know you don't want us going out because we're family, but we're not, Dad. At least, not by blood. Please…just let me do this one thing. Please, Dad." Tears were streaming down his face now. Maeby was causing him to upset his father; the most important person in the world to him. _I guess this is what they called blinded by love...or something like that. _

Michael got up and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I want you to be happy, son. Just know that I don't approve. Heed my words." He walked away and went to talk to his brother Buster, for reasons even he did not quite understand.

George-Michael went to tell Maeby what happened, and to save her from her boring father.

* * *

"Attention, everyone!" A slightly drunk Lucille called, tapping the zombie Lindsay's wine glass. "I'd like to call a toast!" She rose the glass, Lindsay's hand still attached, calling for her audience to copy her. "To my wonderful son Michael and, uh, his son for coming back and letting old mama throw a party for them!" 

"To Michael and…Michael's son!" everyone cried, clinking their glasses against their neighbors'.

"My son's name is George-Michael! It's George-Michael, Mom!" Michael the lonely ghost called from where he was hanging around in the back of the room. Of course, the chatty people were too loud to hear him. George-Michael, embarrassed, asked Maeby to accompany him on their grandmother's balcony. Before they left, he looked over at his ghost of a father, trying to smile at him. Michael tried to smile back, but neither one of them were really feeling up to it.


	4. Pinned Terribly

**A/N: Hi, all! Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this update!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arrested Development. Mitch Hurwitz does. **

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**Chapter Four**

"I can't believe it's still raining…" Maeby and George-Michael were leaning on the edge of the balcony.

"Eh. I don't really care." Maeby started to kick the bars of the balcony out of awkwardness.

She wanted to pursue a relationship with George-Michael. She really did. But Maeby had a job, and a life, and, honestly, she wasn't a girl who could be tied down. She was a free-roaming spirit who enjoyed the chase more than the catch.

"Hey, Maeby?" George-Michael interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh! Yeah, what?" She refused to look her cousin the eyes.

"I…I think I love you, Maeby." Maeby's eyes widened. _No, no, no. George-Michael, not now… _George-Michael leaned in closer, his eyes half-closed and a smile on his face that just screamed undying affection. And for some reason, Maeby felt herself being magnetically pulled towards her cousin. Maybe the catch could be better than the chase…?

He kissed her, and the passion he was feeling was sent over to Maeby. She lost herself in the moment; forgot about her job, her future; her free-roaming spirit…all that crap that she was using as excuses her whole life.

After George-Michael pulled away and embraced her, Maeby realized that maybe she was just afraid of commitment. Maybe she loved George-Michael too. At least, that was what she told him, anyway. Her whole life, she had tried to rebel against her ignorant parents because she thought this would garner the attention she longed for. Now that she was getting what she wanted, she was scared.

The pair focused on the sky again. The rain had cleared up, and neither of them could remember a time where the moon looked more beautiful than this.

* * *

Michael was sitting alone in the back of the living room. GOB, who had been attempting to perform his "greatest magic trick ever", had set most of the food on fire, burning them to an inedible crisp. _Typical GOB_, he thought, shaking his head and forcing a smile. Normally, Michael would be scolding his older brother for being stupid, but today…well, today he just wasn't up to it. Michael never had much time to reflect on things before now; before his family had lost the business. He was an important factor in the business, being the president and the one who decidedly was in charge of keeping the whole family together. Well, now that it was gone, he felt like he had lost his importance in the family. _Sure it might be all in my head, but I can't remember any time in my life where even Buster doesn't want to talk to me._

Michael looked out the closest window. The rain had finally stopped, and he could make out the outline of George-Michael's rather large head from the moonlight. He moved over a little, trying to see if he was alone. Maybe he could…apologize for what he had said. But then he saw Maeby's head, too, and it was pretty close to George-Michael's. _So they wanna be alone, huh? Fine. I'll leave them alone. I'll leave them all alone, _Michael thought, biting his lip until it bled.

He asked Tobias to drive George-Michael home with him when he and Lindsay were leaving, said goodbye to a very drunk GOB, who had apparently chosen to drink away his sadness at a messed up trick (the last thing he had said to him before Michael left was, "Hey baby, why don't ya come over to my place… and I'll take you for a ride"), and left the house, as ghostly as ever.

* * *

George-Michael awoke with a start the next morning, the sound of running water and Maeby's tone-deaf passing through his eardrums. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered how he had gotten in his bed in the first place. _Wow, m-my head hurts…_ Allowing himself to clear his head for a few minutes, he shifted onto the side facing the wall. Soon, he fell back asleep. 

"George-Michael, wake up! Lazy ass!"

George-Michael groaned and turned over as someone shook him. Opening his eyes, he saw it was Maeby. "Oh, uh, good morning Maeby!" He sat up and laughed nervously. "So, um, last night…heh heh, wow, right?" His attempt at small talk was rather pathetic, but he still wasn't sure about what happened the night before. Everything felt like a dream too him.

His cousin smiled. "Yeah, last night was great." She let go of George-Michael's shoulder, grabbed her Nicole Richie-esque sunglasses, and opened the door. "And I'll schedule some time for us again later, but right now, I have a movie I gotta get to." She beamed at him again, then left the room.

_Gee, I guess that's the life of a Hollywood director. _This was what George-Michael forced himself to think. He wanted to feel both sides, but honestly, all he really cared about was spending time with Maeby. The last two days had been great, but how busy was she going to be for the rest of the summer? Would her movie be done by the time school started up again? She was the reason he had wanted to come back. She was everything.

George-Michael put on his slippers and looked for his Dad. Maybe he'd have some advice for him. _Yeah, Dad always knows what to say when I need help. He's the greatest guy in the world. _He had clearly forgotten about their argument last night. He'd also forgotten to put on a clean pair of underwear, but what went on down there was between George-Michael and George-Michael only.

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**Thanks for reading! All reviews are welcomed! The next update might be a little delayed, since I'm going to camp for a week, but I'll try and make it something worth the wait:D **


	5. Three Men and a Teenager

**A/N: Oh my goodness, everybody! I'm so sorry about taking so long to update! T.T The computer I had all my files on crashed, and then I just got lazy XD Well, thanks for the reviews and everything as always! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do I really need one of these, still? I don't own Arrested Development, nor do you want me to.**

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Michael was sitting by the foot of his bed, his legs crossed in a pretzel. It was an excruciatingly sunny day, and his blinds were wide open, causing him to squint as he read the small print of the large photo album he was holding in his hands. He was currently looking at a picture dated December 3rd, 1993; the picture was of a smiling Tracy, who was wearing a Christmas tree sweater; a young George-Michael, reaching out to grab his mother's dangling earrings; and Michael, who appeared to be doubling over in laughter over who-knows-what.

There was a knock on the door, and Michael jolted at the sound of it. He had been mesmerized by the old picture, and had almost forgotten where and who he was. Closing the book, he choked out, "Uh, yeah, come in."

George-Michael then strode into the room, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as he wondered why his dad sounded like he had been crying. "Hey, Dad – are you okay? You sounded like you had been crying." George-Michael blinked, unaware of how very blunt he was being.

"What? Oh, no, no, I was just...no, I'm fine." Michael pushed the book behind him so it would be out of George-Michael's view. "So, what's up, George-Michael?" He patted the bed and moved over just a little, making room for his son to sit down.

"Um, I wanted to talk to you about, y'know, Maeby." He sat down obediently, then began to twiddle his thumbs nervously. "I mean, I'm worried that she's not going to be around much this summer, and that, uh, since I won't get to see her often, we might...break-up." George-Michael, just like his father a few minutes ago, choked out the last few words of his sentence. His first break-up had been very hard on him, especially after his ex, Egg – err, Ann, started dating his uncle. But Maeby was much more important to him than Yam, because Maeby was family, and family is always first.

Silently, Michael watched George-Michael's eyes shine with sorrow; his mouth twitch a little at the corners like they always did when he was anxious. His son then turned to face him, the look on his face saying, "I'm scared, Dad." Immediately, Michael abandoned whatever he had been planning on saying and embraced his son. "George-Michael, you deserve a girl who's always gonna be there for you, okay? And if Maeby's not that girl, then, well, maybe you should re-think your whole relationship." He let go of his son, not realizing this wasn't exactly what he had wanted to hear. "Maybe youshould talk to _Maeby_ about how you feel, and if she doesn't listen, she's not right for us."

George-Michael filled up with quiet rage – never before had he thought his Dad was so...so selfish. He counted his breaths, something he did when he was angry (however, George-Michael was not a very angry child, thus did not do this exercise all that often). _"Maeby's not the girl for _us_"? She's not _your _girlfriend! _He thought, nibbling on his lip.

"George-Michael? You okay?"

"Um, yeah, sure, Dad." Hejumped off the bed with a loud thud, unintentionally knocking something over in the shoddy living room downstairs. "...Thanks," he concluded, looking towards the door. George-Michael then stormed out of the room, power-walking his way back to his own.

"Anytime, son!" Michael called with a smile, grabbing the photo album from behind him. "I'm always here for you, even if _she_ isn't!"

* * *

Tobias sighed, pressing the Channel Up button on the remote absentmindedly. Jobless and lonely, his daily ritual lately was to get up, eat, and watch TV. "So this is what it's come down to. I am an actor, not Nielson bait!" Tobias thought loudly. Regardless, he continued to search for a program worthy of his viewing. 

He stopped on a channel that was showing a commercial for a new line of _Bratz_ dolls. Sitting up, he watched the dolls dance around as their outfits changed constantly, going from school-appropriate to average whore wear. "Oh, to be young a-gain; wearing the latest fashions and indulging yourself!" he said to no one in particular .

A hungover GOB, who apparently had slept over in the model home's living room yet, turned over and faced Tobias. "Hey – what is that?" He, too, was becoming interested.

"Oh, just the new '_Bratz: Forever, Di-amonds_!'" Tobias replied, singing along to the admittedly catchy jingle.

GOB sat up licking his lips. "I'd hit that."

His brother-in-law chuckled. "Oh, GOB, they're just toys for young girls to express their inner feelings with!" The _Bratz Boyz _then appeared on the screen, and Tobias' eyes widened. "Although that one over there is a very, very nice piece of plastic." He turned to GOB. "Would you like to accompany me to the mall to buy one?"

GOB blinked a few times, then got up from the sofa. "Ah, what the hell. I've got nothing better to do, anyway."

So the two grown men set off to buy some dolls, not that they thought there was anything wrong with that.

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**Once again, sorry for the delay! I hope I can upload another chapter before I go away next week! **


	6. The One Where the Author is Lazy

**A/N: I'm sorry that this took so long! I was really lazy during the summer, and school has been really sucky (I started high school, what did you expect?). I'll update again soon, I promise!**

**Disclaimer: I own my story, among other things, such as DVDs, stuffed animals, and a kitty cat. That's really about it, though. **

**Oh, and I don't own Arrested Development. Surprised, aren't you?**

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**Chapter Six**

Upset that his father had let him down by giving him biased, selfish advice, George-Michael set out to Newport Beach, where the banana stand was. Nobody had worked the banana stand since he, his father, and his grandfather had left, apparently, because many a person was walking around with a frozen banana that they had just grabbed from the open stand.

Resisting the urge to work at the stand, George-Michael called Maeby on her cell phone. Maeby was in the middle of shooting a scene of her new movie, _Your Mother Doesn't Love You, Son_, which was about three generations of manipulative, abusive women and how they mistreated their male significant others/counterparts. Contrary to how dark the plot sounded to most people she told about it, Maeby insisted it was a slapstick comedy.

"Yello, ya got Maeby."

"Hi, Maeby!" George-Michael said, ecstatic upon hearing his cousin's voice. "So, um, how's work?" He chuckled a bit, although nothing he had said had been all that funny.

"...It's good...We're kind of filming the sex scene right now."

"Wha-what? I thought you said this movie was a light-hearted comedy!" The Bluth boy started sweating like a fountain as he tried not to think of how raunchy this scene was. His pituitary glands got out the big guns when George-Michael heard – or, rather, thought he had heard – someone say something that sounded a lot like, "Steve Holt!"

"Ch'yeah, but sex makes everything funnier." She giggled. "But you wouldn't know that, now would you, George-Virgin?"

George-Virgin was stunned silent. _Oh my god...am I dating some kind of...sex fiend? And why is Steve Holt on set? _

"Hello? You still there?" It was getting harder to hear Maeby over what was assumed to be the cast and crew cheering and beginning to leave the set.

George-Michael got up and began to pace, holding the phone on his shoulder and ignoring the stares from the potheads that began to gather around the banana stand.

Maeby tapped her fingers on the receiver. Once she stopped, she began screaming to her crew, "Hey! Hey! The director didn't say cut over here! Okay, people? Holy mother of god, I didn't say cut! ...Hello, you're not listening to me, mother-"

"Maeby!" George-Michael swallowed and weezed out her name, a knot growing in his throat. He was on the verge of tears, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand of this conversation. "I think my dad's calling me. What, Dad?" He pretended to walk over to his door to hear his father better. "Oh, yeah, I'd love some ice cream!"

"Ice cream?"

"Kay, Dad, I'll be down in a sec!" He said in a sing-song voice, walking away from the imaginary door and back to his bench.

"So I guess you have to go...?" She sounded hurt, which cut into him like a razor. He felt kind of bad now, but he really could not stand much more of this. Also, Mr. Stomach (George-Michael had an odd habit of naming his organs) was beginning to growl. Talk of ice cream always made George-Michael and his 'friends' hungry.

"...Yeah. Sorry, Maeby." Since she didn't reply, he added, "I...I love you. I'll , uh, y'know, talk to you later?"

"Yeah. Bye, George-Michael."

"Bye, Maeby." The pair hung up at the same time, which proved to be convenient for George-Michael, because the potheads were breathing down his neck.

"Yo. You're in my chair."

Not one seeking a fight, George-Michael got up with a nervous smile. "Oh, haha, yeah; your chair. Right, right, sorry!" He began to take off in the other direction, not sure if he was headed down the path that lead to the ice cream parlor.

---

Michael was meeting his 'sister' for lunch at Skip Church.. He had originally only agreed to go because he assumed it was going to be a family outing, with Tobias, Lindsay, and GOB. However, Tobias and GOB had cancelled ("We have some other obligations - " "Some _very, very_ hot obligations," they had said), so Michael was stuck with Lindsay.

Normally, Michael wouldn't mind this, but recently Lindsay had been lusting after him. The pair weren't really brother and sister, because Lindsay had been adopted, but since he had grown up thinking they were twins all his life, it was still pretty gross. He felt even more disgusted when he thought about the fact that his son was dating his sister's daughter. But Michael decided that –

"Today I'm just going to let my hair hang out, y'know, and just let go of all my stress." Michael took a sip of the wine he ordered, then grinned at his sister.

"Let you hair...I don't get it," Lindsay said, utterly baffled.

"You know, letting your hair hang out! It's a figure of speech? Remember?" As his sister shook her head, he could tell she had forgotten pretty much everything she had learned in high school English class (which had not been a pleasant experience for Lindsay and her award-winning hair, for reasons no one ever remembered). "Okay, you don't remember; well, let's just eat lunch so we can get home and see our wonderful, hormonal children."

Lindsay raised her glass. "To Maeby and...Michael Jr.!"

Michael clinked his against hers, but not before correcting her: "It's George-Michael, but, I don't, um...well, actually, you should know your own nephew's name, but that's okay."

His sister nodded, saying, "Right, right", although what she really meant was, "I don't give a damn." "Sooo, Michael," Lindsay cooed, placing her elbows on the table and leaning in. "Thought about my offer yet?"

"Your offer?"

"God, Michael, you forgot already?" Lindsay asked, trying to sound hurt, even though her tone really came off as unphased.

"...Huh?" Lindsay's 'twin' brother had not been listening to a word she had been saying, because he was too busy thinking about the oft-neglected George-Michael.

"I want you to...to... Marry me, goddammit!"

The rest was a blur. Lindsay lunged at Michael, wrapping herself around him. The table fell over, and the ex-siblings wrestled on the floor as frightened on-lookers in Skip Church watched. No one wanted to call the police, or intervene, or do anything at all.

As soon as he had kicked her off of him, Michael ran for the door. He was screaming, "She's insane! She's insane!" as he headed for the door.

Lindsay was following, yelling, "Michael! Why won't you love me?! Why won't you tell me I'm _pretty_ anymore?!"

"Um, maybe because you're crazy and _my son is dating your_ _daughter_?"

"Wait. You mean he isn't gay?"

Michael stopped in his tracks and turned to face Lindsay. "What's happened to you?" He then left the restaurant, leaving an embarrassed Lindsay once again saddened by disappointing her 'twin-brother'/potential love interest.

* * *

_As the title/author's note says, I really got lazy over the summer. So I'm sorry if this chapter kind of isn't good. T-T Also, I promise to include the 'GOB and Tobias buy Bratz' scene in the next chapter. I just wanted to get this chapter out already so I could move on. Next chapter coming soon!_


	7. Somewhere Inside There's a Jealous Mind

**A/N: Oh my god, I'm so sorry, you guys! It's been more than six months since I last updated! I have to apologize. I'm almost done with my freshman year, which has been pretty terrible and is the main reason why this update has been so delayed. However, I think this chapter is one of the best and furthers the plot much more. It's also the longest. So, enjoy! I'll try to get at least two more chapters out before I go away in July. I have a feeling that this story's almost over.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

George-Michael sat down on a bench outside the ice cream parlor, where his mint chip ice cream began to devour his hand. He attempted to lick it all off before he ended up with 6.50's worth of ice cream all over his favorite khakis, but ultimately failed. "Oh well. At least I still have a waffle cone…that's my favorite part anyway…" He miserably began to nibble on the wet waffle cone, which was bland aside from the small accents of mint, which George-Michael discovered were also pretty bland.

Sighing, the young, troubled boy crossed his legs and looked up at the sky. In the clouds, he imagined that he was with his beloved Maeby, chatting the early afternoon away. He also imagined that he was punching Steve Holt in the stomach repeatedly, having a conversation consisting soley of "STEVE HOLT!" "Steve Holt!" "STEVE HOLT!" "Steve Holt!!"

"I think I…should get in the shade," George-Michael decided, forcing his strange vision to end. He tossed out the remainder of his cone and began to trek back home, which apparently was where the only available shade was. George-Michael's feet carried him there unwillingly. Right now, he had wanted to go anywhere _but_ home. At home, he felt like a huge wall of tension was trying to crush him constantly – Maeby was home, his dad was home, and they were the people he cared about the most, and likewise the people who left the deepest wounds on him.

And that's when he decided to put himself in control for the first time in a long time.

* * *

GOB and Tobias entered the large toy store, their eyes and identities protected by black sunglasses – a sultry, cop-type for GOB, and large aviators for the always ostentatious Tobias. Glancing at each other ever-so-subtly, which of course for them was not subtle at all, they proceeded to look for the Doll aisle. GOB scanned the Barbies, massaging each of them with his eyes. "Oh man…we better find these damn dolls soon before people start asking me if I have a gun in my pocket."

"I found them!" Tobias called appropriately. He was motioning for GOB to come over with his one free hand; he was holding a "Yasmine" Bratz doll in his other. "I think he's quite the pretty Petunia. Shall we purchase him?"

"It's a girl, and you're the rich bastard, you buy it." GOB started to awkwardly walk towards the exit, getting very antsy all over.

"Oh, right, right," Tobias replied, disappointment in his tone. "I could've sworn that these were…males…" He sighed, then proceeded to the checkout. Everyone else in line was of the female persuasion, and were buying items such as the latest Barbie (GOB was barely holding it in), diapers, and sanitary napkins, which they sold at Toys R Us for some really crazy reason. What said reason was, only Geoffrey the Giraffe and his minions knew.

Finally, it was Tobias and GOB's turn to checkout. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," GOB said silently to no one in particular. The cashier was named Margot, an oddly named man that looked to be about 40 with frizzy red hair and had a really disgusting mole on his chin. "Why, good day…Mar-got," Tobias said, leaning in to read her name tag. "How are you this fine day?"

"…is that all, sir?" Margot asked, wiping the contents of her nose on her sleeve while scanning the doll.

"Oh yes, miseur" –Tobias nudged GOB, winking—"that will most definitely be all. At least, for the doll and I…but from you, my king, I still require something. Something warm and…"

"Don't finish that sentence. We're going." GOB grabbed the bag, swiped Tobias' credit card out of his wallet and through the necessary slots, and ran out of the store. "Jesus the Mexican Immigrant working for Mom, that took way too long. What the hell were you doing in there? You know he was a guy? I don't want to be seen with some poof in public." As he was saying this, GOB was leaning on Tobias' shoulder sensually and whispering in his ear, giving the public the impression that the two were, indeed, a gay couple. Not that GOB noticed.

* * *

"Hi, could you direct me the lot where _Your Mother Doesn't Love You, Son_ is filming? I have a gift for the director." George-Michael crossed his fingers, trying to hide any nervousness he possessed.

"Sure, um…if you want to just give it to me, I'll make sure they get it -"

"No, I'd really like to give it to her myself," he said sternly, the most confident he'd ever sounded.

"Oh. Well, then. Lot 78." The security guard opened the gate, a bit miffed at George-Michael's hostility.

"Thank you." He entered the studio lots, amazed at how big they were and the large number of them. "So this is where Maeby works, huh." He itched his arm, an impulsive tick of his that occurred whenever he sensed something bad about to come on. Or whenever he needed a shower. As he walked throughout the large area, he saw not one single woman, and no one above the age of 45. A grimace invaded his face, not liking the idea of his "hot" girlfriend being surrounded by men that he admittedly thought were better looking than him. The pressure he was feeling was unbearable and intense. A wall of tension was forcing itself upon him, not letting him go until he gave up. But George-Michael was a new, changed man that did cave in to pressures as petty as this one.

He finally found Lot 78. Standing outside of it, he marveled its features. It was beige and huge, and an overall beautiful building, as beautiful as a set for filming could be. He smiled a little, happy that his girlfriend got only the best. He then proceeded to knock on the large door.

"Who the hell knocks on a set door? Like, seriously?" someone yelled from within, cracking up the rest of the crew. "Who is it?" he then asked in a sing-song voice.

"Um, hello, this is George-Michael, George-Michael Bluth, here with a gift for the director," he said, "my girlfriend." He grinned ear-to-ear, proud of himself for confidently stating that Maeby was, indeed, his girlfriend, to an absolute stranger.

"Hey, Maeby, I didn't know you were a lesbian!" More laughs. "Okay, Birdman, hold up a sec."

_Birdman? Oh, ha, witty, _George-Michael thought, ignoring the "lesbian" comment entirely. The door then opened, and George-Michael peered in. There was a blinding light set up, and loads of cameras, but not that much else. But there was Maeby, in the lone chair on the whole set, staring back at George-Michael with some fear in her eyes.

"George-Michael. Hey," she called to him. George-Michael waited a few seconds to see if she'd get up to spare him from embarrassing himself any further in front of her crew, but she did not bother to lift herself off her chair in even the slightest. He then proceeded to walk over to her, making sure to not trip over a single wire that might mess up the whole production. As he got closer to Maeby, he saw Steve Holt, barely clothed, looking up at him.

"Hey, George-Michael!" Steve Holt waved, sitting on his knees and placing himself in a location that just covered his "naughty bits".

"Um. Hi, Steve Holt."

"Steve Holt!"

"Steve…Holt." George-Michael continued his way over to Maeby, his face completely maroon. He was crushing the box a bit, something he was unaware of. "Maeby."

"Hey." She looked at the box. "Is that…for me?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, it is!" He thrusted it into her hands, forcing it upon her. "I bought it for you just before I came. I hope you like it."

Maeby smiled politely, and then began to rip off the wrapping paper in a hurried fashion. The box was small; rivaled, it did not, the boxes her negligent parents often handed her on holidays and birthdays. However, it was from George-Michael, who was someone she felt was important to her, and thus it did not matter the size.

Until, of course, she saw the sweater.

Inside the box was a sweater; a disgusting, ratty sweater with Christmas trees on it and ¾ sleeves. It was black, red, and white, and seemed to scream, "I didn't know what to get you for Christmas, so I just picked up the first Christmas-related thing I could find at Macy's." took out the sweater, looked at it for a brief moment, then placed it back down, blinking back tears. "George-Michael…"

"Do you like it? I thought…I thought you would. I thought it suited you. It works for you, y'know?" The entire soundstage was silent, except for Maeby's sniffles.

"This isn't working."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I can't do this, George-Michael. Just…come outside." She pulled him outside into the bright sunlight, and her boyfriend could finally see the tears streaking her face. "I can't believe you had the gall to come down to work to give me this shitty sweater that you KNOW I don't need, want, like, anything. What the fuck is wrong with you, George-Michael? What's up with you?"

George-Michael's jaw refused to let up, and his mouth hung open for a short period of time. This wasn't going well at all, at all. His plan to win back some of Maeby's affection for Steve Holt was backfiring. It was obvious to him, and he wasn't going to take the backseat anymore – Maeby liked Steve, who she invited to be a part of her film to get closer to. He spent more time with Maeby than George-Michael even got to, and the envy was consuming him.

"You're jealous, aren't you? You're jealous that I have a job, and friends, and people who care about me other than you. You're jealous because you don't have _any_ of that, George-Michael. Do you even have a single friend? Do you?"

"Maeby, I…"

"You don't, George-Michael. You honestly fucking don't. I'm the only one there for you, and you don't want to share me. Well, y'know what? I'm not Mrs. George-Michael Bluth, okay? I'm me, and I'm not going to let myself get tied down by you or any man, you understand that?" She headed towards the door. "I'll see you at home. Maybe you'll have grown up by then. Jesus." The door slammed behind her.

George-Michael was dumbstruck, stunned silent, and crumbling into a broken shell of himself, not sure about what just happened.


End file.
